


Just This Once

by fortheloveofb



Category: Naruto
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Brother Complex, Brother Feels, Kyojin misses his brother, M/M, Masturbation, Modern AU, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sasori is in college, Sibling Incest, Underage Masturbation, ig it really has to be tagged huh, kyojin has conflicted feelings, pulling back story out of my ass cause I didnt want to base this in the narutoverse, what will sasori think about this kyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofb/pseuds/fortheloveofb
Summary: Thinking back on this desperate longing—this need—he has for Sasori. Could Kyojin allow himself to act on it just this once?
Relationships: One Sided Original Male Character/Sasori (Naruto), Sasori (Naruto)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Just This Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valxra (trashii)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashii/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Desolate Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539291) by [valxra (trashii)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashii/pseuds/valxra). 



> well, this is super duper niche, but I don't really care.  
> This is a one shot I wrote for one of my besties, [valxra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashii/pseuds/valxra) :) Using her OC Kyojin from her isekai Naruto fic, [Desolate Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539291/chapters/31062621)! If you haven't read it yet, you should! I also happen to beta for her :)
> 
> This is my first time posting my smut, but I'm fairly happy with it. 
> 
> We love Kyo/Saso in this house

It’s been two months since he left. Two months since Sasori moved out of state for college. One month since Kyojin had seen him. Three weeks since they last spoke on the phone. Kyojin is going _insane._

Kyojin pulls up his call history again, staring despondently at his brother's name with the (4) next to it, indicating that his last four calls were ignored and unanswered. For what reason, though? Is he tired of Kyojin? Too good for his fifteen-year-old little brother now that he’s finally out of the house and on his own? Or is Kyojin making a mountain out of a molehill? Maybe Sasori is just struggling with his course load? At that, Kyojin can’t help but snort. Sasori never struggles with school work. Maybe he made new friends…? No. That’s also unlikely. So, what is it?

His finger hovers once again over Sasori’s name, questioning why it matters so much that he talks to his brother. He has friends. Murai and Jin. He could call them instead. He _knows_ they would answer. But, no. He wants to talk to his brother; the only person who was there for him after their parents died. The person who always protected and looked out for him. Who would beat the shit out of anyone who caused Kyojin problems before he was old enough to take care of them himself, and, eventually, who personally taught Kyojin the ins and outs of fighting. Not only fighting, fighting dirty. Fighting verbally. Eviscerating someone with words until they were questioning the very core of their beliefs. Sasori taught him everything… he even was the person that helped him with his homework. Never doing it for him, just showing him step by step how it was done, and teaching Kyojin how to do the thinking for himself.

Sasori never failed before to take the time out of his activity packed days to spend quality time with Kyojin, so maybe _that’s_ why he's actually upset.

Standing up and beginning to pace, the brunette presses the call button again, holding his breath.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

An automated message starts to play.

Kyojin sends his phone sailing across the room, thankfully his aim striking true on the back of the couch and falling unharmed onto a seat cushion. He curses aloud to the empty room.

_Of course_ he realizes Sasori will be doing his own thing, he’s in _college_. Kyojin doesn’t understand why he’s so upset. He knew that Sasori leaving for college meant that he wouldn’t have his brother all to himself, he _does_ know. But it stings something fierce to have this burning need for his brother, this want, and to not only not have him, but to realize that apparently Sasori doesn’t feel that pull in return? Doesn’t want the same sort of closeness that Kyojin longs for? Is he strange for feeling this way? Surely it’s common for brothers to be this close...

Brushing a hand through his hair, Kyojin huffs out a breath, deciding that it might be time to call it a night. He grabs his phone and makes his way upstairs to go through his bedtime rituals, thinking of Sasori all the while. As he pads out of the bathroom he pauses as he sees the closed door of his brother’s room at the other end of the hall. His feet take him toward the red door with the hand-carved placard bearing Sasori‘s name, seemingly with a mind of their own.

Kyojin can’t help but silence his footfalls as he approaches Sasori’s room, even though he knows it’s empty. It’s hard to break old habits. Kyojin remembers every time he futilely attempted to spy on his big brother after school—Sasori never failed to catch him, no matter what precautions he would take. His brother always took it in stride though, inviting Kyojin in with a fond slap to his head, pretending he was more put out than he was. 

He knows that Sasori secretly enjoyed Kyojin’s admiration, _and_ his attention.

Dare he go in? Would it calm him down or work him up?

Since Chiyo is gone for the night, Kyojin decides just this once to give in to the childish impulse that has taken hold of him as he slips quietly into Sasori’s room. Almost nothing has changed, Sasori left most of his possessions here. He was never one to be attached to many material possessions outside of his plants and his puppet projects. 

Kyojin doesn’t bother to turn on the light as he closes the door behind him, talking in the moonlight suffused room. Sasori left his bed neatly made, his floor clear of any dirty clothes or other knick knacks. The only part of his room that appears remotely lived in is his work bench where a variety of wooden parts and various tools and screws are strewn about the surface. Kyojin can’t stop himself from hoisting a mostly finished wooden arm from the table, the wood beautifully oiled and lacquered. The joints are completely silent as he bends it at the elbow and tests the articulation of the fingers. 

Exquisite, as expected of his brother.

He gently places the part back where it belongs, his fingers silently lingering over the rest of Sasori’s assortment of tools and half-completed pieces. Kyojin can almost see ghostly images of his brother toiling among the work area, so clear are the memories in his mind. He would lay on the bed and watch, or steal a chair from the kitchen and drag it upstairs to sit directly next to Sasori as he made his art. 

Kyojin himself had never been interested in puppetry, but he loved watching the older redhead work his magic. Turning lumps of wood into masterpieces that sold for more than a pretty penny, the artistry of turning something worthless into something of value. It was something Kyojin found himself envious of—though, not in an unmanageable way, he has talents of his own. They just aren’t quite as artistic.

The brunette allows himself a number of minutes to sit at the bench, refamiliarizing himself with the contents of the drawers and hatches.

A glance at his phone (yet to pop up with any notifications from his distant elder brother) reminds him of the late hour. Despite being alone for the night, he still has school bright and early tomorrow. Maybe he should call it quits and give up on contacting Sasori for tonight. Kyojin sighs as he pulls himself up from the workbench and makes his way to the door. He turns around to give the room one last glance, before his eyes land longingly on the bed. 

An impulse hits him like a punch to the gut. 

He misses his brother, and his brother both isn’t here and isn’t answering his calls. Perhaps, just this once, Kyojin could find comfort sleeping in his brother’s room? Would that be so wrong? Even if he is fifteen, finding comfort in one’s elder sibling is normal, so finding comfort with Sasori’s physical belongings isn’t much of a stretch.

Making his way back into the room, Kyojin sits himself gingerly on the edge of the crisply made bed, his heart hammering for some reason as his palm drags across the thick, scratchy texture of Sasori’s comforter. The comforter was a gift from their mother and father, he knows. They used to travel all over the globe on business, and it was something they had picked up along the way. Kyojin was very young when they died, so he doesn’t remember them as well, but his brother does. He doesn’t talk about them often, but it is obvious to Kyojin that their deaths were a hard blow to Sasori (he pretends not to see the puppets with his mother and father’s likeness in the corner of the room).

He peels the covers back, eager to crawl in. But before he can, a reprimanding voice sounds in his head about lying down in his street clothes. He’s not sure if the voice was supposed to be Sasori or Chiyo, but he knows neither would be happy with him getting into a clean bed with clothes he had worn all day.

The thought causes him to pause. Should he go grab some clothes from his room? Should he just sleep in his boxers? He glances at the solid oak dresser across the room. Or… well, Kyojin can just borrow some of Sasori’s clothes, right? He steps toward the dresser. Siblings share clothes all the time, and Sasori is barely larger than him despite the age gap...

His hands tremble minutely as he opens the top drawer of Sasori’s dresser. Of course, Sasori couldn’t take all of his clothes with him so a majority are still here. Kyojin pulls out a pair of black briefs and a short pair of pajama bottoms, red and silky. 

He hesitates briefly, his heart going a million miles an hour, before he tugs off his shirt and kicks his pants and boxers off to the side, and slides into his brother's briefs. They’re the slightest bit too big. Before he can think about it any longer he steps into the pajama shorts, enjoying the smoothness of the silky fabric against his thighs. Thankfully the elastic waistband has them sitting securely on his hips.

His fingers twitch and his body starts to tremble as he slips under the cool sheets of Sasori’s bed and lies down on the pillow, situating his phone to the side of him. He makes sure to double check his alarm is set for in the morning before closing his eyes and attempting to sleep.

Only… the pillow smells an awful lot like Sasori. Or is he imagining it? Kyojin tucks his head further into the pillow and takes a deep sniff.

Yes, that’s _definitely_ Sasori’s scent. 

He can’t stop himself from taking in multiple deep breaths, desperate to imprint his brain with Sasori’s smell. He rolls onto his stomach to get a better angle to bury his head into his brother’s pillow. It’s somehow musky and fresh. Masculine and clean. It honestly has to be Kyojin’s favorite smell in the world. 

It brings him back to their innumerable late nights, lying in this very same bed. Reading, studying, watching murder documentaries. Sasori isn’t the biggest on physical (or emotional) affection, but those nights he would wrap his arm around Kyojin’s shoulders and tuck him against his chest and absentmindedly rub his thumb along Kyojin’s arm. The brunette remembers he would often pretend to fall asleep just to hear Sasori sigh and grumble, and then gently lay him in his bed and kiss his forehead. Sometimes, he would tell Kyojin that he loves him.

Coming back to himself from his reminiscing, Kyojin is horrified to realize a familiar heat is beginning to stir in Sasori’s briefs. Now _isn’t the time_ for his dick to decide it needs some attention. He’s in his brother’s _bed_ for Kami’s sake.

The thought makes his cock twitch in interest. Interest in… masturbating in his brother’s _bed_ , in his _clothes?_ Kyojin swallows down his reflexive disgust. Maybe that’s normal? Maybe it has nothing to do with _Sasori_ and more to do with the illicitness of being where he’s not supposed to be?

Or maybe he can admit to himself that his brother could cause this sort of reaction in him? That drowning in his scent and his clothes and lying in his bed are things that are arousing him?

Thinking back on this desperate longing—this need—he has for Sasori. Could he allow himself to act on it just this once? To _masturbate_ to the thought, the smell, the _memories_ of his brother?

A flush spreads across his face and neck, and all the way down his chest as he allows his hand to slide past the band of his brother’s briefs to grasp his half-hard cock. He doesn’t know if the flush is out of shame and mortification, or arousal—or, maybe, he has a feeling it’s some sick, twisted combination of the two. Pleasure explodes across his body at the first squeeze and tug. Kyojin buries his face into the soft pillow, muffling his groan. 

Sasori’s scent assails his nostrils again.

Is this wrong? Of course it’s wrong, of course he _knows_ it’s wrong. What kind of little brother dresses in his big brother's clothes and masturbates in his bed to the thought of him? He knows it’s wrong, but it feels so _right._ And somehow, even that sick apprehension in his gut is transforming into a heat that he isn’t sure he’s ever felt before.

He writhes in place, his hand picking up the pace against his shaft, giving it the occasional twist. Everything about this feels very experimental, despite the many times he has gotten his rocks off. It feels different. More intimate. 

He tugs the briefs down a bit, but not too much, making sure he can still feel the silk of the shorts. The cool, smooth material brushes over his flushed cock, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine as he continues stroking himself inside Sasori’s pajama bottoms.

And, god, it feels so good, so dirty, to make a mess of Sasori’s bed. To twist in the sheets, to pop off the corner of his fitted sheets, to wrinkle his pristine comforter. To eventually spill his cum all across the bed. What if he just left it like this for Sasori to find? What would he think of his little brother's antics? Would he be disgusted, _intrigued_?

That thought in itself brings him closer to the edge. Maybe Sasori will walk in and see his bed rumpled, decide to investigate and find the dried remains of his little brother’s seed. Maybe he will touch himself to the thought of Kyojin, too?

Kyojin moans, bucking up with renewed fervor at the mental picture his mind is painting. 

More mental pictures of his brother undressed, because, of course, Kyojin has seen Sasori naked before. All lean and compact. Sculpted. A beautiful cock. He thinks of all the times he’s watched his brother work up a sweat, imagines his brother working up a sweat because of _him._ Because of the things Kyojin does _to_ him.

Kyojin brushes his thumb over the pre leaking from his tip, roughly twisting it, squeezing a bit more than necessary. That’s how he imagines Sasori would handle him. Roughly. Commandingly. Unwilling to give Kyojin the satisfaction of his affection until he was coming down from his orgasm.

His free hand tugs on his balls, wishing the texture of his palms were as coarse as Sasori’s work weathered hands.

A whine escapes his throat at the same time as his phone begins to ring. Kyojin would ignore it, but it’s _his_ ringtone. Sasori’s. He whines louder, never stopping the movement of his hands, or of his hips.

He removes the hand from his sack as he desperately scrambles to grab his phone, to bring the screen to his face, to show him, _yes,_ it really is Sasori calling him. Does he sensewhat his little brother is up to?

Fuck.

Kyojin is _so close._

Without any thought other than about the pleasure coursing through his body, the teen answers the phone, immediately muting it and putting it on speaker.

There’s a pause, before… “ _Kyojin?_ ”

His name. That’s all it takes. Sasori saying his name. With a cry Kyojin cums, spilling across Sasori’s sheets and clothes.

“ _Kyo, are you there?”_

The brunette is practically sobbing into the pillow at the intensity of his orgasm, hardly relenting as he stroked himself through it, forcing his eyes open to watch the ropes of his seed splatter across his brother’s possessions.

“ _I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll try to call you back.”_ He feels like a pile of goo, every ounce of tension in his body is gone. 

Kyojin forces himself to ignore the promised return call as he comes down from his high and catches his breath, unsure if he’s quite ready to hear his brother's voice again after whatever… _that_ was. Once he’s taken a minute to collect himself, he answers the fifth consecutive call. If he didn’t answer soon, no doubt Sasori would employ dirty tactics to check in on Kyojin, or possibly even call Chiyo.

“Saso-nii.” He curses himself as his voice cracks a bit.

“ _Kyojin, what’s wrong? I couldn’t hear you on the phone a moment ago, and then you weren’t answering._ ” Kyojin bites back a scathing response about how _Sasori_ hasn’t been answering _his_ calls for _weeks_ , but the mixture of pleasure, guilt, and relief of talking to his brother again halts his tongue. Not to mention the edge of tension he hears in Sasori’s voice, presumably because of his worry for Kyojin.

He sucks in a deep breath, trying his best to ignore the smell of sweat and cum lingering in the air around him. “Nothing’s wrong, nii-san. I accidentally muted the phone when you called, and then I was in the restroom, so I couldn’t answer your return calls.”

“ _Okay…_ ” Sasori definitely doesn’t sound like he believes him. “ _Well, I received a voicemail from a few hours ago that was all distant cursing and silence. What was that all about?_ ” 

The brunette feels a renewed flush spread across his face and chest. “Ah, that. I think that must have been a butt dial or something.” 

“ _A… butt dial. Have you been butt dialing me five times a day for the last week, then?”_ Kyojin sputters, but his brother is quick to interrupt. “ _You don’t have to answer that. I know it’s late and you have school tomorrow, but I wanted to call and let you know my phone had gotten destroyed the other week and I just today received my replacement. I was working on a group project with a few of my classmates when you called earlier today. I had to do all of the work, of course, they’re all right idiots. I just got home.”_

Relief untangles the knot of anxiety that had made a home in his gut for the last several weeks. So there _is_ a reason he hadn’t been contacting him. Now, Kyojin can’t help but feel a bit silly for worrying. Of course Sasori wouldn’t ignore him without reason.

He rolls over onto his back, throwing his free arm out across the rumpled bed—uncaring that his spent dick is poking out from the soiled pajama bottoms.

“I’m glad you were able to get a new phone, Saso-nii.” Kyojin’s eyelids are starting to droop, his adrenaline coming down and relaxation beginning to crawl its way across his exhausted form. He feels like he can hardly stay awake.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “ _Me too, Kyojin. I’ve missed you._ ”

“Miss you too.” Kyojin’s words are practically slurring at this point. He hears a huff.

“ _I suppose it’s past your bedtime, you sound half dead,”_ Sasori says, an edge of amusement to his words. “ _I'll let you go, but I wanted to tell you I’ll be coming home to visit this weekend. I can’t wait to see you.”_

The brunette’s heart skips a beat and his dick makes a futile twitch at the thought, though Kyojin _knows_ nothing like that is going to happen. He will be happy to see his brother either way.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He can contemplate his brother’s visit tomorrow when he doesn’t feel so sleepy and satisfied. Cum covered sheets that smell like sex and Sasori are lulling him to sleep. He can worry about the mess tomorrow.

“ _Me too. I’ll see you Friday. Goodnight, Kyojin.”_

“Goodnight, Saso-nii.” Kyojin falls asleep in bliss before the line even goes dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading<3 Feels good to post something. You can find me on Twitter at [@fortheloveofbmo](https://twitter.com/fortheloveofbmo)


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